Malevolence
by Iggymonster
Summary: We always knew he was evil. Torture and pain got him off. But we never imagined this. Contains rape, killing and maybe violence.
1. Prologue  Belligerent

**A/N: Hi...so, I'd just like to thank people for reading my first one shot, it means a lot, honestly. I'm 13 next month, yeah, I'm getting old. Since my first story was just a sort of short, fun, light hearted story, I was thinking about upping my game by writing a full lengthed story. I had no inspiration, nor do I have the plot line – apart from a few minor details – and I don't know where this could go. And yeah, it's got an OC in it. But she hasn't got a major part. **

**OK, so...I don't own South Park, but damn, I wish I did. That'd be cool. **

**Here's the prologue to 'Malevolence'...**

_Prolouge – Belligerent_

She looked beautiful; a silhouette in the sunset.

She was a young girl, about mid twenties, with blonde, lavishing curls that stopped just above her waist, and stunning blue eyes that sparkled no matter what. Though she had rare beauty, she had the rare intelligence also.

Not only that, but a life ahead of her she could be proud of.

As she walked alone, capturing the scenery around her, gazing at the magnificence, she inhaled the fresh sea air and felt the wind blow her hair. It seemed so innocent – it was a mild summer's night in South Park, Colorado and it was a beach; nothing could go wrong, right?

_Wrong._

Just as she stopped walking and faced the ocean that sparkled as the sun reflected on it, she felt hot breath in her ears. The hair on the back of her neck stood up immediately, though she wasn't sure why. A frightened sensation ran down her spine.

"_Today could be the last day to live."_

She gasped, but she didn't dare turn around to face the voice. _The voice so spiteful, so full of poison, venemous...malicious...belligerent..._

Her heart's pace got faster. She thought it would just implode as it thumped in her chest. Her breathing got heavier – what did the voice want? Why was it the last day to live? It all felt so surreal.

"Who are you?" She found herself whispering.

The voice snickered. "Your worst nightmare."

All things were silent. Nothing moved. She didn't even blink, breathe, nor move. She was too scared to. She couldn't even feel the presence of someone standing behind her, nor feel his cold, brown eyes bore into her back.

Her heart rested for a while. She stopped panicking. Everything went numb.

And that's when she felt a hand make contact with her mouth. She tried to scream, but they came out muffled and dry. She wanted to burst into tears and run away, run faster than she'd ever run before, but there was no escape this time.

She struggled, but the body behind her was far too powerful and too strong. She was so frightened, lost and confused that suddenly, everything went black. She was motionless – almost ready to just die and say goodbye to the world. The end for her was unfortunately near.

X (o) X –

_This was it. No way out. No escape. Today was the day she would meet her death._

The person who kidnapped her waited for her to come around before finally killing her.

"I'm not dead?" she whimpered. She felt in pain, even though nothing had happened. The soon to be murderer hadn't even touched her yet.

"Nope," he replied with a smirk. She gasped – she recognized him, but she hadn't seen him in years...

"Cart-" The man again put his hand over her mouth, and she refrained from screaming. She'd given up long ago.

"Shh.." he lovingly stroked her gorgeous curls, trying to calm her down as he pulled down her trousers. One hand was still covering her mouth, but now she was screaming from the top of her lungs. The only problem was that no one could hear her.

"This might hurt," he warned her. He sat on top of her, getting sick pleasure out of her terror and fear, and as she began crying and begging for him to stop, he raped her.

Zipping his trousers up afterwards, he sighed.

"You do know what's coming now, don't you?" he asked, but it sounded more of a statement rather than an inquiry. She shook her head; her tears stained from all the ears; her throat feeling isolated and on fire; her eyes red.

He turned around, took some items off of a shelf, and brutally murdered her with every weapon possible. Once he knew for sure the girl was dead, he chuckled, before fledding the scene.

**A/N :O Now, uh, raping's bad, m'kay? You shouldn't rape people. It's not meant to be a mystery story, and I know an almost 13 year old girl shouldn't write about rape and killing, but I couldn't resist. If you didn't get the clues, yeah, it's a very familiar face raping/killing a very familiar girl. Can you guess from her description? I'm a very obvious person, btw. So, um, yeah, that's the prologue. My spell checker isn't working so sorry for any typos/grammar errors/spelling errors, I tried my best! I'll try and update, but I'm back at school and my evil teacher's are being evil by giving me homework. And it's like midnight here so I should probably be going. Kthnxbye.**


	2. Chapter One Ameliorate

**A/N: I update sooo fast, don't I, children? So, um, this is the first chapter of 'Malevolence'...and there's an OC in it :O d/w, she's only like Kyle's wife (haha you lose) I'm not gonna have a huge, long A/N as usual, so on with the story! I guess.**

**But before I continue, I'd just like to say...**

**YOU LOST THE GAME! HA!**

_Chapter One – Ameliorate_

'_And in other news tonight, there's been a murder in South Park.'_

Kyle Broflovski's ears pricked up as he sat spread out on the sofa, taking up most of the room. A murder? In such a quiet mountain town? Not possible.

'_The murder occured last night at approximately half eight in a secluded area. No clues nor evidence to who murdered her have been found, but we can reveal that the body has been identified as Bebe Stevens, a twenty eight year old student.'_

_Bebe? _Kyle gave the TV his full attention by sitting up. They hadn't been close but, still...wow. The shock was pretty extreme.

On the TV, a policeman appeared standing outside the crime scene which was surrounded by yellow tape. _'Miss. Stevens was found here a few hours after she had been killed by a knife, a hammer and even a chainsaw to finally finish her off. Forensic scientists also believe Miss. Stevens was raped.'_

"That's horrible," Kyle muttered to himself. "No one deserves _that _sort of cruel death."

At that moment, Kyle's wife of five years, Christina, wondered in carrying bags full of groceries. She glanced at him and his wide open mouth.

"What's horrible?" she inquired, her head tilted to one side.

"Remember Bebe?" Kyle asked her. She nodded. "Well, someone murdered her."

She gasped. Though she and Bebe never really got along due to jealousy over Kyle, she didn't want to say it was karma being a bitch. She'd seem heartless then.

"Oh," was all she could come out with. "That's horrible, yes."

She walked away, leaving Kyle speechless on the sofa.

X (o) X –

"Any clues to who murdered her?"

"No. Not yet."

Stan Marsh sighed. He needed answers and he needed answers quick. Who in their right mind would kill such a gorgeous girl? Jealousy? He looked down at his desk, then at the clock. _Eleven fifty at night. _Stan rested his head on the table, so exhausted from working on a case. They weren't getting clues, no suspects, nothing. This killer was good.

He wanted to go home but he knew he'd probably be at the office for a good three more hours. He wanted to give up, but he knew that wasn't what being a policeman was about.

Stan just wanted to get home as soon as possible and see his pregnant wife and two young children. He hated working. He'd missed most of his children's life already – their first words, their first steps, their first day at school...the pain was unbearable, and he wanted to be a better father.

Lost in a daydream, a colleague handed him a piece of paper.

"Here are a list of suspects," he informed Stan. Stan looked at it, his eyes darting up and down and across the page, taking in the pictures and names.

"Kyle Broflovski?" he read in shock. "No way would Kyle kill someone! Or rape them!"

His colleague shook his head. "Not true. The quiet, innocent ones are always to blame. For all I know, Leopold Stotch could have commited the crime."

"Butters?"

"Mhmm."

Stan continued to read who was up as a suspect, noticing pretty much every thing that breathed that lived in South Park could have been to blame. That would be pretty hard to find out who did it, and to make sure the person who did had the correct punishment.

"I thought Bebe was raped," Stan questioned his work mate.

He nodded his head. "She unfortunately was."

"But how come girls are listed as suspects?" Stan cocked his head to one side, so bemused. "Like, Christina. She's like Kyle; she'd never do that."

Stan's work mate shrugged his shoulders. "Don't ask me. She could have murdered Bebe but gotten a man to rape her. I'm not sure. We'll have to look into that."

He put the sheet down, skimming it over and over again. He wanted to pass out – he had heavy bags underneath his eyes, his hair was greasy and he had acne all over his face. He took a sip of his coffee to attempt to at least stay awake for another hour before he'd finally give up and head home.

"Was there any jealousy between Christina and Bebe?"

Stan gasped. He was zoning out way too much. It had been silent until his colleague finally decided to speak, startling Stan a little.

"I don't know," he whispered. "There might have been."

His colleague smiled. "Right, circle her. We have our first suspect."

Reluctantly and with shaking hands, Stan got a red pen and circled Christina. Even though he knew for sure she never did it.

X (o) X –

_Ding dong._

After three seconds, the door opened. Inside it was dark, cold, and looked so scary, so untouched...like something out of a horror movie.

"Clyde?"

"Craig?"

Craig sighed as he saw the dry tears marked on Clyde's face. His usual chocolate coloured eyes were now red and bloodshot. His brunette, spiky hair was all over the place, untidy and most likely filthy.

"I'm sorry."

Clyde accepted a hug from Craig before just breaking down in tears.

"Come in," Clyde sobbed, sniffing hard and wiping the tears away with his sleeve.

Craig stepped in and tried to feel his way as he followed Clyde in the living room. It was lit by candlelight, which Craig found to be a little eccentric, even for Clyde. He noticed a piece of paper on the table and raised an eyebrow.

"So, Bebe's dead," Craig stated evidently. Clyde shot him an evil glare.

In his nasal voice, coming out more aggressive than he had first intended, he snarled: "I know, Craig. I know."

Craig put a hand on Clyde's shoulder.

"That must suck."

"Yeah, it kinda does."

Silence.

"What are you gonna do about Sammy?"

Sammy Donovan was Clyde's illegitimate six year old son that he had had with Bebe a few years prior. He wasn't planned, but they didn't love him any less than if he had been. To give the best to provide love and care for Sammy, Clyde decided to go out with Bebe, which they had been for four years. Before deciding recently that he was probably in love with her, he asked for her to marry him.

She accepted. _'For Sammy.' 'No, for us.'_

But now, she was gone. No longer living. After all the angst and pain was over for Clyde, he'd make sure he'd get what her killer deserved. The only problem was that no one knew who killed her, and they'd never know. He'd get away scot free.

"I don't know," Clyde sighed. "I need him to keep strong."

Craig nodded, patting Clyde on the back. He then subsequently pointed to the note on the table that he'd seen when he entered the room.

"Then what's that?" Craig raised an eyebrow. Clyde bit his lip, started to sweat, and went shifty eyed.

"Nothing."

Craig smirked, still raising one specific eyebrow. "Don't kill yourself, Clyde. Think of Sammy."

Clyde began to cry again. "I have to. I need Bebe."

"Yeah, but Sammy needs you right now."

Clyde pushed Craig spitefully, growling at him. "Fuck Sammy."

He immediately signed his name on the paper and picked up the gun resting beside it.

Craig punched Clyde, making him drop the gun. He tackled him to the floor, kicking his arms repeatedly. Clyde winced in pain, tears falling from his eyes. He begged for Craig to stop hurting him like this, but Craig only hurt him harder.

"Clyde, you dickhead," he spat. "Kill yourself and I will fucking hurt Sammy."

Clyde screamed. "Don't you fucking dare hurt Sammy!"

"Don't you fucking dare kill yourself!"

Clyde reached for the gun, with a little bit of struggle, pulled the trigger, and shot it straight in his heart.

"CLYDE!"

**A/N Oooh...dramatic ending! xD! Is he dead? Or alive? This chapter may have been short, but I'm not sure. I have a serious case of writer's block so sorry if it's so bad. Nice reviews please, thanks. Remember, I'm only 12 :) **


	3. Chapter Two Enigmatic

**A/N: Heeey. Um, I think I know where I'm going with this...not entirely sure. OK, so response to review: I suck at Geography, I know. I live in the UK so I don't know much about Colorado :P And I'm ALMOST 13. ALMOST! I'm very mature for my age and I'm 13 on 9****th**** October, which isn't even a month away sooo...I'm at least 13, and that's what it said on the ticky boxy thingy when you join. If that helps. Dramatic endings ftw, amirite? And I got my spell checker sorted out! Hells yeah! **

**WARNING: This chapter includes boyxboy rape, and a graphic killing scene. And a whole load of explicit language. Read at own risk. Pfft. To hell with warnings, just read the story, and maybe reviews? **

_Chapter Two – Enigmatic_

"How did he die?"

"Suicide, officer."

Stan facepalmed, shaking his head whilst tutting.

"That's the second one this month," he whispered to himself. "Any reports?"

His partner stared at him blankly. "Reports on what, officer?"

Subsequently, instead of facepalming, he pinched the bridge of his nose – an old habit he'd never grown out of. "Reports on _why _he commited suicide."

His partner felt stupid, and uttered a simple, 'oh'.

Naively, he shrugged, smiling a little; trying to be optomistic, perhaps?

Stan scoffed and stared at the corpse, touching it slightly. The skin was cold and felt surreal. He'd never touched a dead body before and, due to his weak stomach, never wanted to again. Ever.

X (o) X -

Craig covered his shoulders with his jacket as he creeped through the street one silent, freezing night. Shivering, he took his next step as if it was his last – the streets in South Park weren't safe like they were when Craig was an innocent little kid, and especially after Bebe was murdered everyone was terrified to leave their houses.

Mostly due to the fact that murderer was loose, albiet no where to be found.

The cold night air nipped at Craig's nose as it blew the visible strands of ebony coloured hair all around his face. Fear shone in his eyes – he had no idea where he was going.

He'd already lost a former classmate and a best friend, and he didn't want to be the next death victim. The thoughts of brutally being killed by some sick yet cunning murderer made Craig shiver even more. Soon enough, Craig wasn't shivering because of the cold, but being killed instead.

_Crack. _Craig's heart stopped.

Even though he didn't want to, he turned to face the awful cracking sound he had just heard. He felt a hot drip of sweat roll down his forehead but quickly wiped it away. He just kept walking; as far as he was concerned, no one was there, and it was probably his imagination. Probably.

There it was again – only this time, louder. And more distinctive this time.

Craig started to walk faster, trying to escape this nightmare he believed to be trapped in. His breathing gradually grew heavier.

When he heard some footsteps behind him, he started to run. He wasn't deluded and these footsteps weren't a perverse delusion. They were real...authentic...

Again, as he ran, Craig glanced behind his shoulder. _Still nobody there..._

_This is so enigmatic..._

He stopped to catch his breath. He was now hiding down an alleyway he had somehow found, occassionally looked out from around the wall. Once he convinced himself nobody was out to kill him, his breath slowly returned and his heart leisurely went back to it's usual pace.

_But it wasn't for long, when it suddenly kick started._

Craig suddenly felt a gag being placed in his mouth, and screamed inaudible screams, desperate for at least someone to see or hear him. But nobody was around, certainly not at midnight.

"What do you want from me?" he cried into the gag, tears filling up in his eyes. _Craig Tucker doesn't cry, _he thought to himself as he closed his eyes to blink away the tears. _Only pussies do that. _But it seemed like such an appropriate time to break down, get on his knees, and bawl his eyes out.

The person with the gag simply snickered, just as he had done with Bebe.

Craig felt a warm stream of tears fall from his left eye. He repeated the words 'what do you want from me?' before feeling something hard coming into contact with his forehead.

His soon to be murderer had actually picked up a bin and just hit Craig with a mighty force, causing him to fall unconcious into his arms. Craig gasped as soon as he had been hit, before falling flat, landing in his potential killer.

X (o) X –

"Wakey wakey..."

Craig opened one eye to find himself handcuffed to some bed he'd never seen before. He knew something horribly wrong was up as he peered down to find himself naked. And those weren't police handcuffs...they were pink...and fluffy. Oh God...

Craig's worst nightmare had come true. This guy wasn't just a murder. He was a masochist, too. He raped girls. He raped guys. This guy had no boundaries, and definitely no exceptions. Young or old, it was their time to die...

"Where the fuck am I?" Craig called out. His voice was meant to sound threatning and demanding, but sounded somewhat forced, squeaky, weak and frightened with a mix of his typical, uncaring monotone.

His forthcoming murderer again chucked to himself. He lowered his voice and made it raspier, sounding like Mysterion's voice. "Craig, Craig, Craig. Ask questions later."

Craig growled at this ambiguous voice.

"Who are you?" he hollered. "And how the fuck do you know my name?"

"Leave the fucking questions 'til the end of this escapade, k?"

"Will there even be an end, or will I just die?"

"I told you to fucking stop asking me questions, and it'll be over and done with as soon as possible." Craig saw as a knife gleamed and stood shining in someone's hand.

He pressed his lips together, just too unbothered to say anything more.

"Good, Craig." Out of the shadows, he stepped out, causing Craig to bit his lip and clench his toes.

"I should have known it was you," Craig spat maliciously.

He clapped, nodding approvingly. "Yes, you should have, Craig."

Craig tried to imagine this was not happening. That it was just some sort of sick nightmare and not reality. He started to kick his legs and try to struggle out of these chains, but nothing worked. Sweat poured down his body as he relentlessly moved about, desperate to just make a run for it. This entertained his murderer greatly, laughing at his every attempt.

"You should probably try harder, Craig."

Craig again growled, so frustrated with everything. "Shut the fuck up."

His murderer then got onto the bed, lying on top of Craig as he winced and tried to escape.

Craig felt uncomfortable as his killer's face inched closer to his, trying so hard not to stare into his Satanic chocolate-brown eyes, just in case they had a secret power to hypnotize Craig.

"Get away from me," Craig whispered weakly, trying hard to push the heavy boy off of him. It was no use – Craig was currently powerless with no arms and all, and the man above him was stronger albeit fatter and way heavier than him. "Fag."

"Ooh, I'm so scared," he sarcastically retorted. "Not." He raised an eyebrow and ran his fingers down Craig's body.

"Do you know what I'm going to do now?"

Craig rolled his eyes. Pfft – predictible killer who killed _everyone _the same harsh way. "And now you are going to rape me."

"Correct," the large boy whispered into Craig's ears. "Remember to squeal, just to let you know." Craig's confidence was slowly coming back, although he was going to be murdered after he got raped.

Craig closed his eyes and rested his head on the pillow provided, trying hard not to panic or go crazy. He tried so hard to keep his dignity and pride, although it was about to be snatched away from him.

His probable murderer unzipped his trousers and took off his jacket and shirt. Craig opened one bloodshot eye and, though his vision was blurred after such a hit on his head, he noticed that his rapist had a bulge. He got pleasure from torture...and he was getting pleasure out of raping people be it female or male.

This murderer was way more sadistic and corrupted than he was back in elementary.

Craig tried hard not to watch as he slipped some lubricant on his dick.

He returned to the bed and returned to sitting on top of Craig. With a shit eating, malicious grin on his fat face, he entered skillfully and unpainfully. He'd done this way too many times, that was for sure.

Craig yelped in pain, more tears welling up in his eyes as he felt pain flow through his body. It wasn't even pleasurable, and Craig questioned how homosexual people could actually enjoy it. It was painful, and as his murderer penetrated harder and faster, his yelps soon turned into screams and desperate pleas for help. His eyes were flooding with tears.

Suddenly, the pain was over. His rapist had stopped for some reason.

"I can't work with this," he muttered to himself. "If you're going to just fucking be a big fat pussy and fucking cry about it, then I shouldn't even bother."

Craig sighed a sigh of relief. Did this mean he got away scot free? Sadly, nope.

His rapist eyed the bedside table with approval and reached for an unclean, unwashed, ripe sock he'd recently taken off, and stuffed it into Craig's mouth.

As he returned to raping him, Craig screamed into the sock, gagging by both the stench and the feel of it concealing his yells.

"You want more?" He took the sock out of Craig's mouth. "Because I can go _all night, _if you want."

Craig shook his head, forgetting he could speak.

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure. Just stop and get the fuck off me!"

His rapist snickered yet again, before returning to fucking Craig. His asshole was on fire, inflammed and felt sore as his murderer thrust even faster.

Finally, it was done as his murderer climaxed. It had been going on for one and a half agonising hours and Craig was just glad for it to be over.

In fact, he was glad that his _life _was going to be over. He'd never be able to live now with the memories of this horrible rape experience.

"Do you know what time it is now?" his murderer asked him as he put his trousers back on. His eyes gleamed with masochism, and the love of Craig's fear.

Craig shook his head, although he did have a rough idea about what was going to come next.

"_Time to fucking die, Tucker." _

He took off Craig's handcuffs and was subsequently flipped off as he did so.

His murderer was not in the mood to be flipped off, so he punched Craig in the face. Hard.

Craig winced a little, still crying from the shock and after effects of being raped. He rubbed his face, which was now visible with a red hand print.

"Don't fucking flip me off."

"I didn't."

"Yes you did. I saw you, Tucker."

"I didn't."

_Thwack!_ Craig was again punched. He groaned, unable to feel pain anymore. He was numb.

Craig soon saw the knife again as it gleamed in the hardly bright light. He bit his lip and closed his eyes. He felt the freezing cold knife cut in a vertical line, starting from below his chest all down to his pubic hairline.

Craig bit his lip harder, causing it to crack and bleed. Tears spoke louder than his screams as they rolled down his chin. It hurt, but he just couldn't scream anymore. His throat hurt, his butt hurt, and all over hurt.

Blood seeped through the wound, staining the bed. Craig felt woozy as the blood soon began to spurt out, dousing his killer and his lethal knife.

"This is just the beginning," his murderer warned before taking a bat and hitting Craig three times around his neck. A little bit more blood came spurting out, leaving a huge bruise.

Everything went black for Craig and he passed out from all the blood loss. But he was yet to be dead. _Yet._

His killer smiled as he reached for a hammer and proceeded to hit any areas he wanted to, especially Craig's forehead. To finish off his sick killing fetish, he did exactly as he had done with Bebe, he picked up his trusty chainsaw and sliced Craig's thighs and around the gaping hole on his stomach.

His murderer wiped his brow and felt Craig's pulse. Nothing. Success!

His chest was no longer rising and his heart was no longer beating.

The murderer left Craig lying dead on this unfamiliar bed and took a piece of paper and scrawled on it: _'I can't live like this anymore, goodbye. – Craig.'_

He didn't want the blame, so he just wrote a suicide note, pretending Craig had too killed himself.

Then, he washed off the knife and slipped it into a backpack, along with all his other tools of weaponry, and climbed out the window.

Another murder he'd never get done for...sweet.

**A/N: Wow, wasn't that fun, children! This chapter was kinda hard for me to write because I'm really tired (I'm back at school .) and I had writer's block. And because I love Craig :'( It was also hard to kill Clyde too 'cause I freakin' love him as well! :D Also I have a weak stomach and I've never really written something as sick as that, it's so out of my comfort zone. I'm into funny, humorous, romantic, fluffy stories soooo...yeah. Thanks for reading (if you did) and I shall update when I want to D: ! Reviews would be nice, I spent a lot of time on this! Again, no nasty reviews or flames, because a) I'm insecure about my work b) I'm sensitive c) I fucking hate fire d) I'm still learning and I'm pretty young and naive...kthnxbye!**


	4. Chapter Three Apprehensive

**A/N: Hey everyone – if anyone is reading this. Sorry if it feels like I last updated in forever but I thought I'd just update because I just feel like writing some more. Thanks for the real awesome reviews – I appreciate it! And thanks for the happy birthdays too :) My birthday was pretty awesome and I got loadsa South Park stuff :D I'm officially 13 now...I'm getting old D:**

**This chapter reintroduces my OC, so if you're not too keen on OCs, I would skip the beginning of this chapter.**

**And don't worry – I know where I'm going with this now. I need to kill most people off to get to the delicious ending of Kyman...mmmm!**

_Chapter Three - Apprehensive_

Christina sat in the waiting room, her fingernails clacking as she nervously fiddled with them. Biting her lip, she patiently waited to be called in and interviewed.

Even though she was innocent, and most people knew this for a fact, she still felt frightened. She could feel a few drops of sweat on her forehead, but it was nothing too major and unattractive.

"You may come in now," a friendly, welcoming voice informed her. Weird, for such an uninviting environment.

With a sigh, Christina tried not to panic and stepped in, feeling a bit more relaxed to see the smiling faces of the officers who were waiting to interview her.

Yet again, it was strange. Out of place for such a location.

"Ms," one of them greeted her, his smile dropping. "Do you have any idea in which you are here today?"

Even though Christina had a vague idea of why, she still shook her head.

The other police officer hummed, looking at his workmate through the corner of his eye.

"Where were you on the night of Miss Steven's death?" he asked her, and Christina thought for a minute.

"I was at home," she truthfully answered, feeling a bit more relaxed than before. "I was in my living room, in fact, watching TV in my pyjamas, as usual."

"Nothing unusual?" the first police officer added.

"No, not at all," she smiled weakly. Just to show she wasn't afraid.

"Did you ever have spats with Miss Stevens?" the second officer questioned.

Christina gave a little shrug. "I'm not entirely sure if you can call them spats. Just a little jealousy, I guess. Nothing too major."

"Did you ever get into fights with her?" the first one continued.

"Of course not," Christina retorted, rather rudely, even though that definitely was not her intention. "As I said before, it was nothing too major or newsworthy. Just minor arguments; silly, childish behaviour."

The first officer scrawled some words down onto his notepad as she spoke.

"Do you know anyone else who had any jealousy towards Miss Stevens, besides you?" he said, not making any eye contact whatsoever. He continued to write down some information he had gathered.

"I don't recall anyone hating her," she told him, her eyes now beginning to gleam with fear. "Not enough to go crazy and kill her, anyway. I can truthfully say that it wasn't me."

Nobody replied, and there was an awkward silence all around the room.

"Very well."

X (o) X –

"_Another murder in South Park has been committed. Police officers were shocked to find twenty eight year old Craig Tucker – as he has been identified, that is – dead. It seems that Craig had brutally murdered and tortured and, quite possibly, raped."_

"Are you getting any luck on the case so far?"

Stan looked at his pregnant wife and shook his head, sighing. She moved closer to him and they cuddled tighter.

"No clues," he whispered just loud enough for her to hear. "Something tells me that this killer is extremely good, but..." his voice drifted off.

"Do you think he's a proffessional? Like, he's done it before?" she asked, but Stan simply shrugged, shaking his head from side to side.

"I don't know," he sighed.

"Any suspects?" she was eager to find out all her husband knew about the case.

"Not really," he twisted his mouth in anxiously. "We've interviewed the very little we had, but no results. For some reason, most of our suspects were girls."

His wife went blank; speechless.

"But wasn't Bebe raped?" she cocked her head to one side and raised an eyebrow.

"Mhmm," he nodded. "So was Craig."

She refrained from laughing; this was pretty serious business.

It was silent for a while, but it was a comfortable sort of silence and not as awkward as usual silences are.

"Three deaths in a week," he looked down, feeling his wife's curious stare bore into his back. "Two killed in a horrible way; one died of suicide, you know."

"Suicide?" she repeated.

"Bebe's fiance, I think," he said. "Kid's gone into care."

Again, his wife stared at him apprehensively, biting her lip a little.

"Maybe we should get to sleep. You have a long day ahead of you," she smiled and kissed his nose, before falling asleep in his arms.

X (o) X -

"I've heard about your work. Impressive."

"Why, thank you," came a rather smug, arrogant reply.

"But, why do you do this? Do you want world domination or something?"

"Why? Do you?"

"I am the absolute ruler of world domination, bringer of distruction. Of course I do! Now, answer my question."

Of course, the last part was meant to sound horrible and harsh, but for some reason...it just didn't. It came out less than threatening.

"Power," the reply was simple, and obvious, yet no one could see.

It wasn't jealousy. It wasn't to prove a point. It wasn't insanity.

It was power.

"Power, huh?" the words were repeated. "...Are you a sadist, o-or something like that?"

Suddenly, the voice changed dramatically. He was stammering a little, and there was visible fear in his tone. No one had spoken to such a sadistic murderer in a few months.

"No, I'm not a sadist," he denied in an almost sing-song esque tone. "I just want power. Got a fucking problem with that?"

Chills went up the second boy's spine when he said that. It came out as a sort of growl, a snarl, almost. "...N-no, Sir. Why would I?"

The larger boy smirked, even though it was pitch black and no one could see it.

"Thought so," he snickered.

"But, why have you decided to kill Bebe and Craig?"

More questions. The murderer was getting pissed off with all these questions that he didn't even know the answer to.

In fact, he didn't even know why he had decided to kill them. He never really bothered with Craig until he and his friends scammed him and got them all lost in Peru.

And he never really bothered with Bebe until she started to develop.

"No reason," he replied after a short pause. "Probably power, or something kewl like that."

The weaker boy gasped. He turned around to face this murderer he'd heard about and shuddered on impulse. He could make out a few parts of his face, but it was the accent that gave it away to him.

"And I have something super awesome in store for that fucking Jew."

Even though the insubstantial boy had always tried his best to stand up to him before, he actually felt afraid of him now. Scared that he'd be the one getting raped next and murdered with a hammer or a chainsaw or a knife or a rope or even a spoon...

Maybe even a wifle bat...

He shook a few parts of fear away, and just jumped. He ran away. He needed to get out of this place – he wasn't safe.

The moon gleamed on his aliminum foil, and he could hear screaming in the background – it was this murderer calling for him to come back, but he kept running and running.

He needed to get out of here.

He, Proffessor Chaos, bringer of chaos and destruction, needed to get out of here.

And he needed to act twenty eight.

And stop being Proffessor Chaos.

**A/N: Sorry if this chapter seemed a bit short, I just needed to get a few things done before moving on. I hate making it so mysterious, and I know it probably isn't. We all know who the killer is ^_^ Just they don't, MUAHAHAHAHAHAHA.**

**And yay for Butters/Proffessor Chaos! We all love him, amirite or amirite?**

**Thanks for reading, reviews are highly appreciated, and I won't make any promises but the next chapter might be a little more detailed and longer. Love you! **


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